I definitely can’t show up to dinner like this. Angelica stared down at her dust-covered and paint-spattered jeans in dismay. She and the crew had spent the afternoon patching up the drywall and painting one of the guest bedrooms—and filming the whole thing, of course. Roger had taken particular delight in the gob of spackle that had landed in her hair when she’d attempted to reach a little too high. She’d heard the lens zooming in from across the room.

With a bit more cleaning, she’d have at least one room ready, which would satisfy her parents. Her mother had agreed to appear on the show, helping Angelica make design decisions and hang artwork. Meanwhile, her father was planning on installing some kind of bookkeeping software on her computer. Off camera, or so he said. She expected to see him pulled into some kind of talking-head couch interview about five minutes after Leah and Roger got their hands on him. Assuming those two stopped avoiding each other, anyway.

Angelica stripped, chuckling as she thought about her friend’s adamant denials of anything ever happening again with the cameraman. If they weren’t sleeping together within a week, she’d eat her spackle knife.

A quick shower did a lot for the dust and most of the paint, but to Angelica’s consternation, she’d had to snip out a small chunk of hair with a pair of rusted kitchen shears to get the last of the dried spackle out. Leah was going to kill her.

Now, she stood naked in front of the old, mottled mirror in her bathroom. Sliding her hands down along her hips, she tried not to think about Noah’s hands doing the same. Even when he wasn’t with her, that man was a major distraction. While she couldn’t quit picturing all the things she wanted him to do to her, she was absolutely, one hundred percent positive he wasn’t looking for something … serious.

Not that she was, either. Her last relationship had crashed and burned when she’d gained weight and stopped getting calls from casting directors. And the one before that had been fake, arranged by the studio that had produced the movie they’d both been in. Not exactly fulfilling. She didn’t need a relationship, though. She needed to stay focused on her renovation so she could make this place a success.

Angelica’s hands slipped lower and she met her own heavy-lidded gaze in the mirror. There was nothing stopping them from being friends, though. Maybe even friends with benefits. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing. He’d been positively charming today. It was a side of him she hadn’t expected.

Before she could become too distracted, she shook her head and pushed all those tantalizing thoughts away. It was after seven. She needed to get herself dressed and over to Noah’s. If nothing else, she was pretty sure a really good steak was in her future.

* * *

Noah answered the door in a sage green tee that was either vintage-wash or truly vintage, because it clung to his muscles in a way that emphasized the softness of the material and the body underneath. Angelica managed not to swallow her tongue, and walked inside when he gestured her in.

“Everything’s just about ready,” he said. “I was just waiting for you to get here to toss the steaks on the grill.”

She followed him down the hallway to the kitchen, letting her eyes travel over him while his back was turned. That soft green fabric was caught up in the waistband of his jeans at the back, giving her a truly excellent view of his superior ass. She caught herself nodding in time as each cheek moved with his long strides.

“Sounds great,” she said absently. She was pretty sure he'd been saying something about steak.

“You said pinot, right?”

“Hmm?” She drew her gaze up and realized that they were standing in his kitchen, a modern masterpiece in cherry wood and granite, with a contrasting center island in dark gray, all sparklingly clean. Noah moved around the island, his hip skimming the edge of the butcher block countertop and held up a glass and a bottle.

“Pinot. As requested.”

“Ooh, is it yours?” She came closer, intrigued.

He laughed. “Actually, no. But local, I promise.” The wine had already been uncorked and resting, clearly. He picked up a glass and poured her a small sample with the practiced ease of a professional at work. No extra flourishes or swirls with Noah. She liked that about him, she realized. He wasn’t flashy or pretentious; he was just himself. Occasionally grumpy, sometimes irritating, secretly charming, and dead sexy.

“Thanks.” She took a sip and nodded. “It’s good.”

“Should go nicely with ribeye,” he said. “And I stole a gratin from Max.”

“Really? Doesn’t he need it for his customers?” She couldn’t imagine waltzing into a restaurant’s kitchen and making off with a dish herself, but she could definitely picture Noah doing it.

“Nah. He feeds me occasionally, and I give him a damned good discount when he stocks his cellar.”

“Scratching each other’s backs, huh?”

He grinned at her. “You should see the pastry I stole from Sean’s mom for dessert.”

“Do you pay for anything?” She’d meant to sound disapproving, but it came out on a bubble of laughter.

He picked up a platter and angled it toward her. “Sure. Steak.”

“Is that just because you don’t know any cattle ranchers?”

“None. My social circles are really shallow,” he said, shaking his head with mock sadness.

“Maybe you can network your way up the culinary ladder,” she suggested. “Is there an online dating app for dudes who just want to trade food with each other?”

“If there isn’t, there should be.”

“Impress Your Date Dot Com?”

“That sounds more like a self-help site.”

She chuckled. “Naming things isn’t really my forte.”

He nodded toward the door. “Come on. Grill’s hot already.”

She followed him outside and admired his deck. It was spacious, with both a table and a seating area with elegant, simple furniture. Clean lines were definitely Noah’s style, she decided. He slid an oiled towel along the grill’s grate and then flipped the steaks onto the hot iron like he was dealing cards. They gave a satisfying sizzle, and he nodded at them with what looked like affection. “Nice.” Then he turned, and she found his focus back on her. “So, what are you going to name your place?”

“What?”

“Your B&B. Have you decided on a name?”

She took another sip of her wine. “Not really.”

“Got any ideas?”

If she took any more sips of wine to avoid answering, she’d be drunk before the steaks were finished cooking. “Not good ones,” she admitted with a grimace.

He grinned. “Well, now I definitely want to hear them.”

“Of course you do,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Come on. Give me your best shot.” He glanced back at the steaks and seemed to decide they weren’t quite ready to flip yet. “Let’s hear it.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I was thinking… like… The Butterfly?”

He stared at her. “You’ve either watched too many episodes of Gilmore Girls or you’re a huge fan of Mariah Carey.”

“I told you I’m bad at names.”

“Give me another.”

“Angelica’s Place.”

He roared with laughter. “No! You haven’t seriously considered that.”

“Until I realized it made it sound like I was opening a corner bar.”

“Or a daycare center.”

“Gee, thanks.” She stuck out her tongue.

“Do you have more?”

“Not any worth sharing, apparently.”

Still chuckling, he turned back to the steaks and flipped them. “You need a name coach.”

“Are you offering?”

“Maybe. Here, hold this.” He handed her a plate.

“There’s no food on this.”

“You’re very observant.”

She set her glass down to get a better grip on the plate. It was simple, plain white, just what she expected from Noah. She held it out as he poked the steaks with a finger to judge their doneness. “Medium rare, please,” she instructed.

“Hmph.” He pulled one of the steaks off the grill and slid it onto the plate for himself. “I suppose you don’t like food to be moving when it gets to your plate.”

“Not much, anyway. Not if I’m going to eat it.”

“Well, I’m just glad you didn’t order it well done. You would have had to leave.”

“Perfectly understandable.” She grinned at him.

They stood in companionable silence for another few moments until he judged her steak ready and pulled it off the grill. “Here, I’ll take that,” he said, reaching for the plate. “You get the door.”

She skipped forward to open the door and he set the steaks down on the counter before rummaging in a drawer for a potholder. “Gratin’s done, too. There’s a salad in the fridge. Can you grab it for me?”

She moved around the other side of the island while he extracted the bubbling potatoes from the oven. Finding a simple, fresh salad in the fridge, she asked, “Did you pick this up at the farmers’ market?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he answered, setting the gratin on the counter. He pointed to an empty spot next to it, indicating she should put the salad there, and then turned to pull plates out of a cabinet. “Want to eat inside or outside?”

“Outside,” she said. “Your deck is fabulous.”

“Thanks. No fire pit or anything, but I like it.”

“Well, if you’re feeling desperate, you can always come over to my place,” she offered. “To use the fire pit. Not to, like, burn it all down.”

He laughed as he spooned potatoes onto their plates. “Thanks for clarifying.”

They carried their meals outside to the table on the deck, and he refilled their glasses from the bottle of wine he’d brought with him.

“This all looks amazing,” Angelica said, surveying the spread. She wasn’t used to home cooking, to be honest. It wasn’t a skill she’d developed herself, and she certainly hadn’t met a lot of men in Hollywood who bothered. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Thanks for coming,” he said, and raised his glass. “Toast to us.”

“To us?”

“Friends, I hope,” he said with a smile.

Angelica couldn't identify the feeling in the pit of her stomach as she clinked her glass against his. Disappointment? Frustrated lust? Hunger? “Friends,” she said with a smile, hoping it didn’t twist too much.

He leaned forward, and she caught her breath at the intensity that had suddenly sprung up in his eyes. “Were you thinking of something else?” he asked quietly.

“I—”

“Because I have to say, I was.”

She blinked. “You … ah, you were?”

“Every time I see you,” he confessed. “I keep thinking about the other night. The good part, not the arguing.”

“The good part,” she breathed.

“It was good, wasn’t it?”

Good was an understatement. Just remembering it made her want to leap into his lap, preferably without clothes on. But as far as she knew, neither of them were in the market for a relationship, and there was still the matter of her personal policy about dating business partners.

“I don’t date anybody I’ve signed a contract with,” she blurted.

He sat back and dipped his fork into his potatoes. “I wasn’t … uh … necessarily talking about dating.”

“I—oh.”

“Listen. I like you,” he said. “You’re a pain in the ass sometimes, but I’d really like to explore what’s going on between us.”

“Flattering,” she said dryly.

“You want flattery?” he asked with an imperious quirk of his eyebrow. “You and I both know that you’re gorgeous, Angelica.” He slid her a side-eyed glance that practically smoldered. “But I’d really like to see more, if you know what I mean.”

She gulped. She did know what he meant, and the feeling was definitely mutual. But … “We agreed to an early night,” she said reluctantly. “I can’t reschedule my call time this late.”

“Does that mean you’re interested?”

She bit her tongue before answering. “I … yes. I'm interested. Friends with benefits, so to speak. Just, maybe not tonight.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. She could hear the frustration in his voice. “You’re right, actually. I have to kick you out by ten.”

She giggled. “Nice.”

He pointed a finger at her, mock-sternly. “Don’t get mouthy with me, woman.” Then he grinned, and it was very clear where his thoughts were headed. “Not tonight, anyway.”

She laughed. “We’ll see. For tonight, steak will have to do.” She sliced into hers and held up a bite in mock salute to him before she popped it into her mouth. His eyes followed her mouth as she chewed and swallowed, and the intensity in them made her entire body hot.

They finished dinner without much more mention of what was growing between them, although she knew she’d spent a little too much time carefully licking the cream sauce from the gratin off of her fork. At one point, she’d thought he might leap over the table. Instead, he’d retaliated over dessert, spending far too much time leaning over her shoulder as he served the pastry, and then using those long fingers of his to ease a bit of cream out of the center of his serving and into his mouth. She’d nearly fallen out of her chair.

And now it was ten o’clock, and neither of them were naked. A successful evening, by somebody’s measure, she supposed, trying to remember that she’d be up far too early the next morning. And Leah would kill her if there were bags under her eyes. Or at least make several lewd comments.

Noah led her to the door, then drew her in close. She tilted her head up reflexively, and found his lips on hers in a soft, sweet kiss. He lingered, then pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. “What are you doing on Saturday?”

“Mmm.” She enjoyed the press of his body, feeling every last ridge of muscle in his chest sliding up against her. “Nothing, really. The crew’s off for the weekend. Just need to place some orders for tile.”

“Okay. Put me on your calendar.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Friendship day,” he said.

She felt a jolt of what felt like disappointment. “Really?”

He raised his head and grinned down at her. “Hey. You’ll like it. There’s more to being friends with me than just jumping my bones, you know.”

She couldn’t resist. “I’ll have to check with the guys at Frankie’s to be sure.”

He rolled his eyes with a grin. “I’m sure plenty of people have sex with Max and Sean, but I’m not one of them.” He punctuated it with another kiss. “Dress in comfortable clothes. And sneakers.” He pointed down at her feet, currently encased in her favorite heels. “None of those, much as I appreciate them.” His hands slid down from her waist to cup her ass, and he pulled her tight to him for one last, lingering kiss and a suggestive hip thrust that pushed her back against the door. “Now get out.”

She went, laughing. Leah was going to have a few smartass things to say about stubble marks again, but this time, Angelica definitely had no regrets.